


Fuzzy Time

by VampirePaladin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/pseuds/VampirePaladin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snapshot of America and North Italy during the Christmas season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuzzy Time

Italy crossed the wooden floor with naked feet. Outside the snow was falling. In its special cave the fire raged against the winter outdoors, trying to keep the cold out of the house. She dropped onto the couch, half on her boyfriend. America wrapped his arms around her.

“Aren’t your feet cold?” America asked.

“Maybe a little,” Italy said. “You could always warm them up for me, hero.”

He laughed and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, half tossing one end so it would cover her feet and pulling it up to her chin which also meant his legs would be covered.

In a corner was a sparkling Christmas tree. At its base was a Nativity scene that Italy had brought over. Towards the back and one side of the trees were mountains of wrapped presents. America had spent the entire day wrapping presents.

“You know we could test to make sure the food tastes good,” America suggested.

“No, not till our brothers get here.” She gave him a semi-serious look.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.”

“Good, cause I don’t like having to chase you away from the kitchen.” She had made an internal vow, a pledge, she would not back down when it came to defending the food she had spent the day making for the party from American attacks. There would be no white flags in the kitchen she had claimed as her territory.

“Next year we should spend Christmas at your place,” America suggested.

“I’d like that, America.”

The two cuddled together under the blanket. It was warm and warded of the perpetual slight chill there was around the house. Italy rested her head on America.

“Am I just a pillow to you?”

“Yes, a warm one.”

“I guess I’ll just have to suffer in silence.” America gave a mock sigh.

“You are never silent. You say everything.”

“Well, if I was silent then how would you know what I was thinking and feeling?”

“Signal flares.”

“We don’t have room for signal flares inside. Let’s go outside.”

“No, too cold out there.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t think that if you bothered to wear socks.”

“I forgot them when packing,” she mumbled.

“Is that what it is?” America laughed. 

He extracted himself from Italy. She pouted a little about losing her own personal heater being moved out of the barrier of the blanket. America walked across the wooden floor, socks sliding on the polished wood. He went to the stairs and walked up them, one at a time and hand on the banister. When he was out of sight she could still hear him moving around upstairs. He sounded like he must be in his bedroom from the footsteps. The footsteps told her he was coming back before she saw him coming down the steps. In his hands he held a pair of green, fuzzy socks.

Italy sat up on the couch as he approached her. America knelt in front of her. She pulled the blanket aside, uncovering her legs and feet for him. He placed one sock on the ground. He put one hand on Italy’s foot and began guiding her toes into the wool sock. He eased it up over her heel. With his hands circling her ankle and then calve he pulled it up as high as it would go. America picked up the remaining sock and moved to her other foot and repeated the process.

Italy wriggled her toes inside the warm sheathes. The socks were too big on her. They obviously belonged to America. He rejoined her on the couch.

“Is that better?”

“Ahuh,” she smiled as she cuddled again.

Together the two of them kept each other warmer than their meager body heat could have done on its own. The blanket was pulled back up, covering Italy almost completely. In comfort and safe security the two drifted off into sleep. 

It was dark when the two of them woke up. There was pounding at the front door. Profanity was being shouted in almost poetic waves. Italy bounced up and off the couch and ran for the front door. She slid the last few feet to the door, grabbing the handle to stop herself. She threw open the door. A very cold Italian was standing on the other side, snow accumulating on his head and shoulders.

“Fratello,” Italy cried and wrapped her arms around her big brother.

“G-get off of me, Veneziano. What the fuck is wrong with you!”

Italy pulled Romano into the house, which had almost gotten colder as the fire died down in their sleep. She led her brother into the living room. America was in front of the fireplace, coaxing it into new life once more.

Romano moved to the tree, appraising it. After looking it up and down and deciding it was barely acceptable he opened the plastic bag he had carried in. He extracted two brightly wrapped presents and added them to the ones under the tree. One was for his sister and the other was for America.

“So are we going to open presents?” Romano asked.

“I think that we can. America, are we waiting on anyone else.”

America stood up, brushing off his pants. “I think we are. I thought there was supposed to be four of us, but I can’t remember who the fourth person is supposed to be.”

A frantic knocking came from outside the front door.

“Canada!” America and Italy both said, just now remembering who they were still waiting on.

When the front door was opened a shivering Canada dashed in. A snowstorm had followed Canada in his drive down. So he had driven the entire distance in the middle of a white out.

“I-I’m here,” he said.

“Now, can we get to presents?” Romano asked again.

“Yes,” Italy said.

Together, the four headed into the living room. Canada was helped out of his coat and boots. Soon everyone was comfortable and sitting on the floor. Italy rested her sock covered feet on America’s lap as the first present was passed to her.


End file.
